Red John's Games
by razlahan
Summary: Red John has struck again. Will Jane catch him this time? Yeah, it's not looking so hot for him, is it? I'm almost done. Reviews are appreciated. Of course, as always, I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

Lisbon called the team into the office at three-thirty in the morning, which was unusual enough in itself. She wouldn't say what it was for on the phone; she just told them to come.

They trickled in over the next half hour, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt. Patrick Jane was last, of course, even though he had not yet fallen asleep when Lisbon called. Jane walked in to find everyone more or less sloppily dressed, except Lisbon, but then there are only so many ways to mess up jeans and a tee shirt and even Lisbon had only managed to throw her hair back into a sloppy pony-tail. As for the others, Cho was practically slumped across his desk, an oddity for the normally stiff man, Van Pelt was trying to conceal that she couldn't stop yawning, and he could still see the sleep in Rigsby's eyes.

Jane, of course, looked dapper as ever in his three piece suit.

"So, what is it?" Jane said. "Midnight ransom note?"

"No," Lisbon said.

Cho shrugged. "We were waiting on you," he said. "And you took your damn time. Lisbon wouldn't tell us what it is without you here."

Jane looked sharply to Lisbon, studied her tired face for a moment. "Red John," he said. It was a statement, not a question.

The rest of the team looked more or less surprised at this, more being Van Pelt, less being Cho. All of them looked closely at Jane, though, as if waiting to see if for a moment his veneer would break.

Lisbon just nodded, an answer to his statement. "Manelli called me in at three. I came in, he told me, I called you," she said.

"What happened?" Jane said. If anything, he looked thoughtful.

"A little over three hours ago, the super at the Shaker Heights Apartment Complex heard strange noises coming from one of his apartments," Lisbon explained. "He didn't think anything of it, said he thought it was some inconsiderate twenty-somethings have loud sex until about twenty minutes later when a dark vehicle drove out of the lot at about thirty miles an hour over the speed limit. He decided to check things out. He knocked on the door of the apartment where he'd heard the disturbance and when no one answered he used the spare key. Inside he found a girl's body with Red John's signature painted over it in blood. He called the police, they called the CBI."

"Three hours ago," Cho said.

"This is still fresh, then," Rigsby commented.

"That's right," Lisbon answered.

"Let's go," Jane said.

---

Rigsby drove to the crime scene in the CBI truck with Van Pelt and Cho with him. Cho napped in the back seat along the way. Lisbon drove her own car behind them, with Jane in her passenger seat. She had insisted that Jane stay with her and for the moment Jane had quietly agreed.

It was nearly five in the morning when the team arrived at the apartment complex.

"What do we have?" Lisbon asked the local police officer who was waiting for them when they got out of their cars.

"It looks like that serial killer," the cop said. "The one they call Red John. It's got his smiley face and everything."

"We got that part already," Lisbon said. "I wouldn't have my people here in the middle of the night if that wasn't the case. Have you identified the dead girl yet?"

"Yes," the police officer answered. "Her name is Holly Pasto. She's one of the two girls that rent the apartment. The other girl is supposedly away for the weekend, visiting her sister in Nevada."

"How old is she?" Lisbon asked.

"Twenty-six," the cop said.

"All right," Lisbon said. "Take us up."

"If you'll follow me," the police officer said and then he turned and headed for the stairs.

Lisbon halted Jane for a moment as the others followed him. "Jane, stay with me," she said. "I don't want you wandering off alone on this, okay?"

"Why not?" Jane answered.

"Just stay with me," Lisbon said.

She turned and hurried to catch up with the others. Jane followed behind. The rest of the team was standing just outside of the open door with the police officer. They didn't need to go any farther than that to see the giant dripping red smiley face, drawn in blood.

"That's Red John's signature, all right," Cho said.

"I think I'll leave you all here," the police officer said. "I've already seen all this once and that's more than enough."

"All right," Lisbon said. "We can find our own way around. We'll be in touch if we need anything."

"The girl's straight on through in the living room," the policeman said. "You can't miss her." Then he headed back down the stairs.

Lisbon led the way into the apartment, past the red smiley face and into the living room. Jane was practically on her heels. The girl, Holly Pasto, was lying dead in a pool of blood on the area rug. From the corners of the rug they could tell that it had once been light green, striped with cream. It wasn't anymore.

Jane stared down at the body, looking half like a man trying to determine the next move in a game of chess and half like one who had just seen a tidal wave or a car crash.

Lisbon looked to him. "That's Red John," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: it's six in the morning. This is what I do with my insomnia. And yes, when I say insomnia, it means I haven't gone to sleep yet. It's so very sad that no one else bothers to update here at five in the morning. Hence, I write more myself.**

---

The CBI team stood around on the stairs outside of the apartment. The medical examiner was taking the body away. He'd placed the time of death right around where it should be, given the superintendent's statement.

"Geez," Rigsby commented as the body bag went by. "If the super had only came up and knocked when he heard the disturbance she might still be alive." Rigsby had gone and talked to the super, a Mr. Morris, while the body was being looked over.

"Or he might be dead," Lisbon said.

"At least he might have seen him," Van Pelt said.

"Well, we can't stand around all day talking what ifs," Lisbon said. "He did see the vehicle, at least."

"Dark colored large size SUV," Cho said. "That's about half the cars in America, isn't it?"

Lisbon sighed. Jane remained silent.

"What way did the car turn?" Lisbon asked. "Did the super say that much at least?"

"Left," Rigsby answered. "It turned left."

"Okay, you and Cho check the gas station on the corner, see if they have any video with our vehicle on it, since we know the approximate time," Lisbon said. "Van Pelt, see if you can get a hold of the victim's roommate. And try to locate any family."

"Yes, boss," Van Pelt said. She turned to go, as did Cho and Rigsby, off to fulfill their various assignments.

Lisbon looked to Jane.

"I'm still with you," he said.

"Good," she murmured as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. "God, I need some coffee," she said.

"So what do we do?" Jane said.

"Talk to the neighbors," Lisbon said. "See if they knew the girls or if they'd noticed anything strange recently."

"Hmm," Jane said. "She didn't seem like the sort of girl that would get to know the neighbors, at least not in a neighborhood like this."

"No?" Lisbon said.

"For a pretty girl like her," Jane said. "This is the sort of place that you live in before you move on to brighter things."

"Okay," Lisbon said.

"Did you see the movie posters on the walls?" Jane said. "She wanted to be an actress."

"Or her roommate does."

"Both of them did," Jane said.

"We should still talk to the neighbors," Lisbon said.

Jane nodded. "It's still too early for that, though," he said. "You don't knock on a person's door at six in the morning, not if you want their cooperation."

"They have to know something's up," Lisbon said. "This place has been swarming with police since one-thirty this morning."

"Nonetheless," Jane said.

"What do you suggest we do instead, then?" Lisbon said.

"Well, you said you wanted coffee?"

---

By noon the team had retrieved the footage from the gas station, talked to the neighbors enough to know that Holly Pasto wasn't the kind of girl who usually talked to the neighbors and if they had seen anything, they weren't telling.

They had also gotten contact information for Holly's mother, who lived in Washington. It had fallen to Lisbon, as the boss, to make the phone call. Sharon Pasto had been devastated. Lisbon had spent nearly ten minutes on the phone listening to the woman sob after she had told her that her daughter was dead before she calmed down enough for Lisbon to tell her what exactly had happened. Mrs. Pasto would be flying in the next morning.

The group ate lunch in a small restaurant, discussing possible avenues of inquiry for the case over sandwiches and soup.

"We've found out where she works?" Lisbon asked.

"Yes," Rigsby said, pausing to swallow a bit of his second BLT before speaking. "She's a receptionist at a paper supply company. Norfolk's Paper Supply. Not the most original name in the world."

"All right, Jane and I will go there after lunch," Lisbon said. "Cho, I want you watching the tape we got from the gas station. Van Pelt, you still haven't managed to get a hold of her roommate?"

"No boss," Van Pelt said.

"Well, keep trying," Lisbon said. "Also, Jane thinks that the victim was aspiring to be an actress. I want you to see if you can find where she's auditioned recently."

"What about me, boss?" Rigsby said.

"Check out the superintendent, just in case," she answered. "Make sure he comes up clean. We might as well cover all of our bases."

"All right," Rigsby said.

"Red John had to get his eyes on this girl somewhere," Lisbon said. "He had to know where she lived and be reasonably sure that he'd find her home alone. Red John does not commit crimes of opportunity."

"And he had to know that someone would come and find her soon," Jane said finally. "Someone who knew her. That's part of it. He likes to know that someone who cared for the victim is going to find her dead."

Lisbon nodded while the rest of the team, just for a moment, averted their eyes.

"We'll find him," Lisbon said to him.

"Maybe," Jane answered.

They finished their lunch and then called for the bill. Jane stuck close to Lisbon, taking her order for him to stay with her quite narrowly as they left the restaurant and the rest of the team headed back to the sheriff's office.

"I don't like it," he said as they approached her car.

Lisbon looked at him, her face questioning. "You don't like what?"

"Any of it," Jane said. "It's sloppy. Red John isn't sloppy."

"He's not a god, Jane," Lisbon answered. "He has to slip up sometime. Everyone slips up sometime."

"Maybe," Jane said.


	3. Chapter 3

Norfolk's Paper Supply for the moment seemed more or less like a dead end. Holly Pasto was a receptionist for the company, nothing more, nothing less. The farthest she'd ever gotten from the phones at the front desk was the week before when the company's deliveryman had gotten the flu and she'd had to help drop off supplies to their customers. Lisbon had gotten a list of the places that Holly had delivered to that week, just to be thorough, but none of it seemed especially promising.

For Jane the trip was even more useless. Norfolk's Paper Supply Company was just as boring as it sounded. Nothing was being hidden there, at least from what he could tell. No embezzlement schemes, no affairs with the boss. Holly Pasto didn't even have and personal effects at the office for him to paw through. For him it was a total loss.

"Now what?" Jane said as they got back in Lisbon's car.

Lisbon couldn't begrudge him the impatience in his voice. After all, she knew how much this case meant to him. "We'll go back to the sheriff's office and see what the rest of the team found. Then we'll figure out where to go from there."

Jane nodded and turned on the radio. Lisbon never listened to the radio while driving, but she didn't have the heart to tell him to turn it off. He wasn't really listening to it, either, just fiddling with the stations. By the time they made it back to the station they'd gone through two talk radio stations, one sports station, one country station, two rock stations, a pop station, a classical station and some jazz. Lisbon needed some aspirin. As she pulled into a parking spot next to the team's large black truck she jabbed the radio off. Jane was already getting out of the car.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to get out of a vehicle until it's come to a complete stop?" Lisbon called behind him.

Jane stopped then and waited for her to get out. "Actually, my mother never really drove much," he commented.

"Right," Lisbon said.

The two walked into the station, to the space that the sheriff had reserved for their use. "I hope your time has been more productively spent than ours," Lisbon said to her team as they walked through the door.

"Yes," Cho said immediately. "I managed to pull something off of the video."

"What is it?" Jane said.

Cho pointed to a video screen. "Dark blue large size SUV, pulling out of Shaker Heights Apartments at one twenty-seven a.m. We've got a partial plate, ends in 74. I've got the database pulling up all dark blue SUVs with plates ending in 74 now."

"That's great," Lisbon said. "What else?"

"The superintendent's clean," Rigsby said. "The biggest blight on his record is a pot charge and that was in 1973."

"That's nearly as old as me," Lisbon said. "I figured as much, but it's good to be sure. Van Pelt, what do you have?"

"I got a hold of the roommate," she said. "Shannon Talbert, she'll be coming back as soon as she can. We can expect her either late this evening or early tomorrow. I haven't gotten anything on acting auditions yet, but I figure that her roommate will know or she'll have some records in her apartment."

"All right," Lisbon said. "Cho, how is that list looking?"

"Like I'm going to be working on it all day," Cho said. "We've got sixty-eight dark blue SUV's with license plates ending in the number 74 in the tri-state area."

"All right," Lisbon said. "You and Rigsby get on it."

"The medical examiner wants us down in her office at four," Van Pelt said. "To see the body."

Lisbon looked at the clock. It was now nearly three. "Okay," she said. "Keep at it until then."

"What are you going to do?" Van Pelt asked.

"I'm going to get us some place to spend the night," Lisbon said.

She turned to go and Jane followed her out. "Are you coming along?" she asked him as they headed out into the parking lot.

"You told me to stay with you," he answered. "Should I not take you so literally? I seem to recall that you usually complain quite a bit when I don't follow your directions."

"Perhaps I'm just contrary," Lisbon answered.

"Well, I've always thought that," Jane said. Lisbon rolled her eyes. "I could go for a walk instead," he suggested.

"Hah," Lisbon said. "Nothing good ever comes out of your walks."

"That's not precisely fair," Jane said. "Usually quite a bit of good comes out of my walks."

"Usually they're not walks," Lisbon said.

"Well, if you don't want me to stay with you-"

"Stay with me," Lisbon said. She unlocked her car door and got inside. "Just don't touch the radio," she cautioned.

Jane smirked at her. It wasn't his usual hundred watt smirk, to be certain, but she'd gotten a smirk out of him nonetheless. It left Lisbon feeling somewhat better.

"So what do you think of the case?" Lisbon asked once they pulled out of the lot.

"I still don't like it," Jane said.

"You don't think it's Red John?" Lisbon asked.

"No," Jane said. "It's Red John. I know his work. I know it well."

His face grew dark for a moment. Lisbon watched him from the corner of her eye. His face quickly returned to his normal mask, probably without him realizing that she'd seen anything else. He knew how inclined she to keep both eyes on the road.

"What's wrong, then?" Lisbon said.

"Red John's killed fifteen people before this and never left a real clue," he said. "And now this? His planning is usually better than this. And before you say it, he didn't get sloppy."

"Okay," Lisbon said. "Maybe not. Maybe he had things perfectly planned and those plans just went wrong. Maybe the girl caused more fuss than he would have liked, obviously she caused more fuss than he would have liked or the superintendent never would have noticed. Maybe he had to hurry out less carefully than he would have if things had gone right."

Jane sat silently, thinking about it for a moment.

Lisbon risked looking away from the road to look at his face. "Well?" she said.

"I hope you're right," Jane said quietly. "Maybe you are right. I've turned him into a monster in my mind, but he's still just a man. And the best laid plans of men…" He trailed off.

Lisbon pulled into the motel lot and parked in front of the office. She turned off the car but for the moment she didn't get out. She sat, studying his face.

"I hope you're right," Jane repeated, barely more than a whisper. "I want him," he said.

Lisbon nodded. "Wait in the car," she told him.

Jane nodded his assent. Lisbon went inside and came out a few minutes later, slipping four keys into her jacket pocket. When she got in the car Jane was still brooding.

"Jane," she said.

"Huh?" he answered, snapping out of it.

Lisbon sighed. "Let's go look at the body."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Hopefully thanks to House Calls I got rid of all of those pesky SVUs in the last few chapters. No more subliminal messaging for Law and Order from me, nope. **

---

The team had had a grim time viewing the body. Red John's handiwork was just as recognizable on Holly Pasto as it was on all of his other victims. The five of them had seen enough bodies dead in the same way already. Once was more than enough times to see body that way.

The medical examiner's conclusions were precisely what they expected. The victim had burn marks from a stun gun on her left leg and ligature marks on her wrists from the use of plastic restraints, both of which met with Red John's usual MO of incapacitating and binding his victims before killing them as he pleased. She also had several long deep cuts and stab wounds to her torso, with special attention paid to damaging the viscera. The medical examiner put the cause of death as exsanguination and internal hemorrhaging due to the stab wounds.

It was nothing that they hadn't expected, considering. In fact, it was everything that they had expected, but that didn't stop it from being a grim sight.

"It makes lethal injection seem too kind, doesn't it?" Rigsby said as they left the examiner's office.

"Yes, it does," Jane said.

Lisbon shot Rigsby a look that would have said, had it been words, "_for the love of god, don't encourage him_." But then, Rigsby had never heard Jane's plan to capture Red John, cut him up the same way he did his victims and watch him bleed, so Rigsby didn't know.

What she actually said, though, was, "None of this is putting us any closer to catching Red John. Let's see if forensics has found anything for us yet."

"Right, boss," Rigsby said.

Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho went for the CBI truck while Lisbon and Jane again went for Lisbon's car, and their two vehicle caravan drove back to Shaker Heights Apartments.

"Talk to me, Steve," Lisbon said to the head of the CBI forensics unit as they came up to Holly Pasto's apartment. "Please tell me that you have something."

"I hate to disappoint you," the forensic team leader said, "But I'm going to have to."

Lisbon sighed. "Do we have anything at all?" she asked. She sounded very much as though the three coffees that she'd drank that morning had all worn off at once.

"We've no hair except the victim's and her roommates, all of it long and blond," he said. "You can hope for prints somewhere, but the door knob was swiped clean on both sides, as were the faucets on the sink, where he presumably washed his hands before he left. Her clothing had no snaps or catches that would pick up prints. He also took the murder weapon with him."

"So it doesn't look promising?" Cho said.

"Not really," Steve the-forensics-guy said. "Sorry."

"All right," Lisbon said. Her eyes scanned over the blood soaked rug on which Holly Pasto had met her unfortunate end. "Keep looking."

They left the apartment.

"What else can we do tonight?" Jane said. "Anything?"

Lisbon rubbed her temples. "We can get dinner," she said. "And I can get aspirin."

"All right, boss," Rigsby said.

"Never turn down food, right?" Lisbon said with a half-hearted smile.

"Of course not," Rigsby answered.

They stopped in some random fast food place where Rigsby downed more cheeseburgers and French fries than Cho and Van Pelt combined, while Jane picked at a chicken sandwich. Lisbon, of course, had a salad.

When they were done Cho asked, "What do you want us to do now, boss?"

"I think we should get some sleep," Lisbon said. "It's too late to talk to anyone else tonight. If we get anything from forensics it won't be until tomorrow. We need to talk to the victim's mother tomorrow and her roommate, maybe find out where she was auditioning."

"I can keep working," Cho said.

"All right, then," Lisbon said. "Go back to our BMV list. Right now that vehicle is all that we have. Narrow the registrations down to white men or perhaps women with spouses that could use the vehicle. Serial killers strike in their own ethnic groups, so that will at least put us in the right demographic for suspects. Also pull out anyone with a violent criminal record, other factors aside."

"All right," Cho said.

"Here," Lisbon said, pulling a key out of her pocket and handing it to him. "We're at the Fair View." Cho nodded and headed out. Lisbon also passed keys out to Rigsby and Van Pelt. "We meet at six-thirty at the diner across the street from the motel, okay?" she said.

"Next meal already planned," Rigsby said. "I like it."

Lisbon gave him another small, tired smile and then said, "Come on, Jane." She left, heading out to her car and he followed.

They stopped at a gas station on the way to the motel where she bought a bottle of water and aspirin. She took some of the aspirin with the water before driving the rest of the way back to the motel. She got out of the car without a word and headed up to the third floor, with Jane still following.

"Don't I get a key?" Jane asked her as she stopped in front of a door, room 310.

"No," Lisbon said. "I told you, you're staying with me."

Jane managed at least an approximation of his usual smirk as he raised his eyebrows and looked at her. "Well, Lisbon," Jane said. "I must say, that's unusually forward of you."

She gave him a glare. "Grow up," she said before she unlocked the door and revealed a room with double twin beds.

"Hmm," Jane said. "Is this some new cost saving measure on the part of the CBI? Of course, if it was, I think it would make more sense for you to stick me with Cho or Rigsby. Or even better, stick Cho and Rigsby together, you can stay with Van Pelt, and I can have my own room."

Lisbon gave him a look. "I'll be sleeping in the bed closer to the door," she said.

"Ah," Jane said then. "You're afraid that I'm going to something silly."

"I'm afraid that you're going to do something violent," Lisbon.

"I see," Jane said. "Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea for me to tell you my plans for Red John, then, eh?"

"Not really," Lisbon said, kicking off her shoes.

"I don't sleep well," Jane argued. "I'll keep you up all night."

"I don't care what you do all night, just so long as you don't step one foot out of that bed."

"One foot?" Jane said. "What if I need to use the bathroom?"

Lisbon gave him another look. She picked up her water bottle, drank the rest of it down, and tossed the empty bottle at him. "That should work," she said.

For once he was the one to glare at her. "That's nice," he said. "Real nice."

"Get your pajamas on," she told him. "In the bathroom. I'm changing out here. Don't come out until I tell you."

Jane rolled his eyes. "You're being ridiculous," he said. But still he did what she said. When he came out she was settled into the bed closer to the door, just like she had said, lying on her stomach, face down into the pillow.

Jane resolved then to keep her up all night. "Are you asleep yet?" he asked her.

"No," Lisbon said, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"Good," he answered.

Jane turned the lights out and sat down on the bed that she had left him.

Periodically, though, as he listened to her breathing, monitoring how close she was to sleep, he would start talking to her. "Are you asleep yet?" he asked.

"I was getting there," she said.

"But how are you going to watch me if you're asleep?" he asked.

"You're being childish, Jane," she said, turning onto her side so that she could see him.

"What?" he said. "Didn't you expect me to make a fuss?"

She sighed. "Of course, I did," she answered before he went quiet again.

But then, twenty minutes later Jane called, "Are you asleep yet, Lisbon?"

"I wish I was," she answered.

"It's a pity, then, isn't it?" he said.

"Please, Jane," she answered. "Try to sleep."

"I can't sleep," he answered. But at least he went quiet again, until twenty minutes later, when he called, "Are you asleep yet, Lisbon?"

"No," Lisbon answered.

"No?" Jane answered. "Well."

"I'm going to be very cross with you in the morning, Jane."

"You mean you're not cross with me now?"

Lisbon just sighed.

Twenty minutes later, he called out, "Are you asleep yet, Lisbon?"

She threw the spare pillow from her bed at him then and didn't give an answer. Jane just laughed.

Twenty minutes later, he called again, "Are you asleep yet, Lisbon?"

Lisbon didn't answer. Jane lay down on his side, facing her and listened to her breathing. She had, in fact, fallen asleep. Jane briefly considered waking her up. But that would be just a little too petty. Instead he laid that way for the rest of the night, watching her sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Jane was still watching Lisbon when she woke up in the morning. She had curled up on her side while she slept. She uncurled and yawned and then looked across between the beds at Jane and was very, very startled to find him staring.

"Good morning," Jane said to her.

"Jane," Lisbon said. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No," Jane answered. "Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

Lisbon looked alarmed for a moment.

"Oh, dear, Lisbon," Jane said, giving her a lazy smile. "It's too early in the morning for you to be blushing."

"Um," Lisbon said. That was all. Nothing else came to mind. Well, it came to mind that she'd rather not be in her pajamas. With Jane. But that was it.

"What were you dreaming about?" Jane said.

"Actually," Lisbon answered, "I don't usually remember my dreams."

"I see," Jane said.

"What did I say?" Lisbon asked hesitantly.

Jane laughed, really laughed this time. "I believe your exact words," he said, "Were 'Edward, if you set that cat on fire, you're not getting another one!'"

Lisbon broke out into a bigger smile than Jane thought he had ever seen on her and then she broke out laughing as well.

"I must admit, though, that I'm curious as to what you thought might have said," Jane added, "To make you blush like that."

Lisbon froze again. "Um…" she said.

Jane took pity on her then, though, deciding that he'd tormented her enough for the morning. At least, he'd tormented her enough for the first five minutes of their morning, anyway. Besides, he already knew what she was thinking.

"So, who is Edward?" he asked instead.

"He's one of my little brothers," she answered, "The oldest one."

"He never actually sat a cat on fire, did he?" Jane asked.

"No," Lisbon answered, sitting up, "Although he came pretty close once. What time is it?"

"Six," Jane said.

"We need to meet the rest of the team," Lisbon said. "Get dressed."

---

The team met for breakfast at Hartzler's Diner, eating quickly, as they had two interviews scheduled that morning. None of them were looking forward to the interviews, with the victim's mother and with her roommate. Speaking with the friends and family of the deceased, particularly when the team didn't have an answer ready to give them, was always difficult.

The mother was first. She met them in the sheriff's office where the team had set up their headquarters. Sharon Pasto was a pretty woman; from what they had seen of Holly, Mrs. Pasto looked exactly like her daughter would have if she had lived for another twenty years. Her eyes were red and puffy looking, she had clearly spent the evening before crying, but for now her face was clear.

"Holly was…" Mrs. Pasto said. "It's so strange to say 'was.'"

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Pasto," Lisbon said.

"It's just- hard," the woman answered.

"Take as long as you need," Lisbon said.

Mrs. Pasto nodded. She took a deep breath and began again. "Holly was such… such a sweet girl," Mrs. Pasto said. "I don't know why anyone would want…" The woman looked away, towards the window, her gaze was distant.

"Had Holly mentioned anyone paying unusual attention to her recently?" Lisbon asked. "Anyone from her auditions maybe?"

Mrs. Pasto gave a small laugh and shook her head. "Holly wasn't actually much of an actress," Mrs. Pasto said. "She loved it, though. She wanted to give it a try and I was her mother. I supported her, of course. She was my daughter. But… she did plays in high school and she got good roles, but they were high school plays, you know? But she got the idea in her head that she wanted to be an actress and she went to school for it… never even got a leading role in college, but still she loved it… she couldn't act very well, but her personality, it shone. When she smiled it could light up a room… But what am I saying? I'm rambling now, aren't I?"

"It's okay," Van Pelt said giving the woman a supportive smile.

Mrs. Pasto took another deep breath. "Holly moved to California with Shannon- they went to school together for theater- so that she could try to become a real actress and I indulged her because we're all young once, we all have our dreams. But I don't see why anyone would follow her out of an audition. Like I said, she wasn't the best. She hardly ever got a call back. Mostly she just worked as a receptionist."

"Do you know anyone who didn't like your daughter?" Cho asked.

Mrs. Pasto shook her head. "I don't know what to tell you. Like I said, she was a sweet girl. Her neighborhood wasn't the greatest. I mean- that's all that I can think of. Can I see her?"

Lisbon nodded. "Agent Cho will take you," she said.

Lisbon motioned to Cho to take her. Cho put his hand on her shoulder to guide her on.

"Thank you," Mrs. Pasto said to Lisbon and then Cho. "Thank you. I just want to see her…" The woman had started to cry again, but she didn't seem to notice the tears as Cho lead her away.

Shannon Talbert came in maybe half an hour later. She hadn't been crying, but it looked as though she hadn't slept.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello, Shannon," Lisbon said. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"Of course," Shannon said. "Holly is- Holly was- she was my friend. We've know each other since junior year in college and that was… five years? Six? It seems so long ago that we met and now she's…"

"What can you tell us about Holly?" Van Pelt asked.

"She wanted to be an actress," Shannon. "We both did."

Lisbon gave her a small smile. "We heard she wasn't very good."

Shannon gave her a small smile in return as her eyes teared up a little. She didn't cry, though. "Yeah," she answered. "She didn't get many call backs. I'd been talking to her recently that maybe she should try auditioning for commercials rather than trying to get in shows if she really wanted to act, you know? She would have been good in commercials. But she didn't want to give up the glamour show dream."

"Yeah?" Lisbon said.

"Yeah," Shannon answered. "Holly just wasn't the kind of girl that you'd ever believe to be a junkie or a doctor or any of a hundred things, you know? But she was the kind of girl that could sell you toothpaste."

"Do you know anyone who didn't like Holly?" Lisbon said.

"Not really," Shannon said. "The only person I've ever seen her piss off was the landlord when the rent was late and even that she managed to grin her way out of."

"Was she seeing anyone?" Van Pelt asked.

"There was this guy, Adam," Shannon said. "But I think they've only been out on, like, two dates."

"Can you give us a number to contact him at?" Lisbon asked.

Shannon nodded.

"If you can give us a list of places she's auditioned at recently, too, that would be helpful," Lisbon said.

Shannon thought about it for a second. "I'd have to get the information from the apartment," Shannon said.

"All right," Lisbon said. "Forensics should be done there. Agent Rigsby and Agent Van Pelt will take over, okay?"

Shannon nodded. "All right," she said.

"Thank you," Lisbon said to Shannon before she pulled Rigsby and Van Pelt aside for a moment. "I don't think we've got much to go on," she said. "Take her back to the apartment, get the information and let her get her things. Take her somewhere she can stay and then I want you to go and talk to Holly's boyfriend. You might as well try talking to the landlord, too, just for good measure. Then I want you to go the places where Holly has auditioned in the last few weeks, ask them if they've had anyone strange hanging around recently, any complaints, that sort of thing. Got all of that?"

Van Pelt nodded.

"Got it, boss," Rigsby said.

Van Pelt and Rigsby went to Shannon Talbert then and gently guided her out.

Lisbon breathed out deeply as they left the room. She looked over to Jane, who had been quiet throughout both interviews.

"Anything?" she asked him.

Jane shook his head. "Nothing important," he said. "I'd say Shannon Talbert slept with the boyfriend, Adam, once or twice before Holly started dating him and Holly didn't know about it. It was an old thing, though. Over." He shrugged.

"Nothing," Lisbon said. "We've got nothing."

---

**Author's Note: Yes, I've randomly given Lisbon a certain number of younger brothers and given them names and they shall stay that way until cannon provides me with another answer. If you're curious, the number is three, just because I enjoy tormenting her like that. I was actually considering four. Poor girl. **

**Happy, Ebony10? :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: After a rather long hiatus, I'm back. Of course, I have three essays due for my midterms in classes next week so I'm picking this up now. Nothing like fanfictioning the Mentalist for procrastination, right? I realize I'm a bit outdated now with the whole Bosco thing, but I imagine that the case will get back to our crew eventually. I'm working under the theory that Red John's going to murder Bosco, personally. He just likes playing with Jane too much. But, without any further ado… **

---

Lisbon led Jane out to her car after she had sent the rest of the team away.

"Where are we going?" Jane asked.

"To check the places on the lists of deliveries Holly Pasto made last week," Lisbon answered. Jane gave her a look. "It could give us something useful," Lisbon suggested, trying to retain some optimism, despite the fact that Jane hadn't said a word. He hadn't needed to. The look had been enough.

Lisbon drove while Jane once again took up fiddling with the radio. Lisbon was glad when they approached the drab the first building on their list. She didn't like the idea of breaking her radio, because she would have to pay to repair it and she didn't think that beating Jane upside the head while she was driving would be especially safe for her to do and it would be a very poor way to end the day, wrecking her car. At the very least, if any of the local law enforcement saw she would be bound to get pulled over for it. Traffic law wasn't her thing, but Lisbon was sure that committing bodily assault while driving would be considered some sort of moving violation. Those were, however, beginning to seem like her two best options.

Lisbon parked in one of the three designated 'visitor' parking spots, all of which were empty, as were the two handicap spaces. The rest of the lot was filled with compact economy cars, mostly foreign makes like Hondas and Toyotas, all in uninspiring colors.

Jane surveyed the scene in front of him. "This was a sad little life for a girl who wanted to be a movie star," he commented. Lisbon didn't answer him. He looked at her for a moment and then said, "I can stop playing with the radio if you want."

Lisbon gave him a sideways glare. "Yes, you can," she answered. "Or I can break your fingers."

Jane perked up a bit. "That's new," he said.

Lisbon looked at him as if he were insane. "What's new?" she asked.

"That thought," Jane said. "Breaking my fingers. In the car you were seesawing between breaking your radio or just beating me upside the head. Did you just come up with it now?"

Lisbon momentarily looked dumbstruck before answering, "Yes, actually, I did. Now how the hell did you know that?"

"Oh, it was in the way that you looked at the radio every time I touched it," Jane said offhandedly. "And the way you were avoiding looking at me at all, while giving that special angry glare to the medium. But really, if it bothers you that much, I'll stop playing with it."

"Why didn't you just stop earlier?" Lisbon sighed.

"Because you amuse me when you're frustrated," Jane said. "You have these wonderful looks that you get."

Lisbon turned away from him, most likely to conceal the fact that she was glaring again and knew it. "Come on," she said shortly. "Let's earn our paychecks." She walked through the plain glass front doors, not looking to see whether Jane followed behind her, but feeling confident that he did.

After all, this was a Red John case. This wasn't something that Jane would miss.

They found out quickly, though, that the first place on their list was a dead end. According to the receptionist, Holly had given her the package. She had signed it and then Holly had left, with nothing unusual happening beyond that. Holly had never even made it past the lobby.

In the car, driving to the next place on the list, Jane slumped down in his seat and his usually unflappable face looked forlorn. Lisbon found that she almost wished that he _would_ play with the radio.

The second place provided a bit more interest. It was the publishing house of a magazine called "Guns and Independence," although publishing house might be too kind of a phrase. Really, it was the bottom level of a gun shop, in which the owner, writer, editor and publisher, who were three men, although they never made clear who was who, accosted Lisbon and Jane about violating their civil liberties, government interference, how they would see no cooperation from them without search warrants and subpoenas, and somehow managed to fit in their prevailing view that the assassination of John F. Kennedy was a plot of the underground communist conspiracy that was actually in charge of the Secret Service and the CIA. They even asked Lisbon if she was wearing a wire.

They were not, however, guilty.

"Granted, I wouldn't put it past the tall one to murder a nice looking woman for kicks after a beer or two," Jane said, "although he wasn't responsible for this particular murder. The publisher doesn't have the nerve, however, and the editor is secretly gay."

"How do you know that?" Lisbon said. "And for that matter, which one was the publisher and which one was the editor?"

"The chubby one was the publisher, the brunette was the editor," Jane said. "And I can just tell. At any rate, none of them were Red John."

"I got that impression myself," Lisbon said.

"Yes," Jane said. "Somehow, when we meet him, I don't think that he's going to be spouting off conspiracy theories about the Secret Service and JFK."

As they once again got into the car, Lisbon felt slightly reassured on how he had said, "we."

The next place had nothing good to offer, nor did the place after that. The fifth and final place contained a large number of slightly overweight mundane looking average American workers, this time complete with square cut matching purple polo shirts all around, the kind that don't look good on anyone, with the name of the employee and "We're Here To Serve!" embroidered on the front beside the company emblem.

Jane pondered the sort of atmosphere that whoever bought those shirts thought they would create against the effect that seeing so many people wearing them created (a faintly ridiculous one), while Lisbon suddenly felt happier about her jeans and tee-shirts and Jane's three piece suits. They also both took note of the fact that despite what the polo shirts said, the woman who directed them to where they needed to go seemed less than happy to do so.

"So much for that service, right?" Lisbon murmured to Jane as they navigated the halls under the vague direction of "take that hallway straight, go left, and then eventually you'll hit it," that they had gotten from the disgruntled receptionist.

"Right," Jane said. "But I imagine you'd be a lot less happy doing your job if you had to do it in that shirt, too."

"No kidding," Lisbon said.

Eventually, they did hit the office they were looking for. Lisbon knocked on the door and a slightly chubby, pallid looking man with thinning brown hair answered. "Can I help you?" he said.

Lisbon flashed her badge. "We're with the CBI," Lisbon said. "We're here about a girl, she delivered a package here a little less than a week ago. Do you remember her?"

"Where was she delivering it from?" he asked.

"Norfolk's Paper Supply Company," Lisbon answered.

He looked pensive for a moment and then said, "Oh, yes, her, I remember her. She delivered the invoicing sheets, I remember. Did something happen to her?"

"She's dead," Jane said.

The man's eyebrows went up in shock, "Is she really? She had such a pretty smile…"

"Yes, well," Lisbon said. "We're investigating her murder and-"

"How is it going?" the man interrupted her. "You always see on those crime shows on TV, how the investigators collect all the clues and one by one they add up until you get your killer."

"This isn't TV," Lisbon answered.

"Do you like those crime shows?" Jane said.

"Oh, yes," he answered, like a man being asked about his grandchild or his favorite pet. "The books, too. Like they always say, the truth really is stranger than fiction. I've got all of the seasons of CSI on DVD. I can recite all of the first season lines. You really can learn a lot about forensics from them and I know people disparage true crime novels but I must say..."

"About the case," Lisbon interrupted, getting back on topic. She was clearly, once again, annoyed. "Holly Pasto delivered invoice sheets here from Norfolk's Paper Supply last Wednesday. Did you notice anything unusual then?"

"About her?" he asked. "No. She was a pretty girl. Very nice. But that was all. She seemed happy. She was also very prompt in her paperwork. I liked that. Is that helpful?"

"Did you notice anything else?" Lisbon asked.

"No, that was all," the man said. "Do you think that someone followed her home from one of her deliveries and-" he made a motion, drawing his index finger across his throat. "That would make an excellent plot for one of those crime shows," he added excitedly.

"A girl is dead," Lisbon said, her voice hard.

"Oh, of course," the man answered, suddenly looking and sounding contrite. "Well, if I can be of any help to you, you can come find me, any time that you like. I'd be happy to help."

"I'm sure you would be," Lisbon answered, before turning to leave. Once they were sufficiently far down the hallway, she said to Jane, "Well, that was no help at all. It just confirmed what everyone else said: Holly Pasto was a friendly, happy girl…"

"Up until she ended up dead at the hands of Red John on her living room floor," Jane finished.

Lisbon couldn't for the life of her think of something to say in response.

It was another dead end.


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, that yielded us nothing," Lisbon said to Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho as they met up again in Cho's room, a neat summation for her and Jane's day.

"Well, we did get a rather interesting lecture on how the communist party secretly controls the CIA," Jane said, "But that wasn't helpful."

Lisbon sighed. "How did the boyfriend look?" she asked.

"He was at a friend's bachelor party when Holly died," Rigsby answered. "We checked that out, the alibi is good."

"He was also pretty upset, but that's to be expected," Van Pelt added.

"Okay, dead end," Lisbon said.

"The superintendent looks all right, too," Rigsby added.

"Well, I didn't think that one would get anywhere anyway," Lisbon said.

"What about her acting auditions?" Jane put in. "Anything?"

"I don't know," Van Pelt answered. "Most people we asked couldn't even remember her until they pulled her file."

"One guy even had to look up the video tape," Rigsby added. "It didn't show much, just confirmation of what we already know."

"What's that?" Lisbon asked, raising an eyebrow. It didn't seem to her as if they knew much of anything.

"She wasn't much of an actress," Rigsby said.

"Well, she wasn't really _bad_," Van Pelt said. "She just wasn't any good, either."

"Did anyone remember _anything_ unusual?" Lisbon asked.

"Nothing," Rigsby said. "Well, we got an interesting story about a mime and transvestite, but last time I checked neither mimes nor transvestites are particularly violent."

"So we have nothing," Lisbon concluded, once again.

"Not exactly," Cho said. "We do have my list." He held it up into the air, a few pages of names and addresses. "I've got it down to thirty-eight."

Jane lifted it out of his hand and began to carefully read it. He scrutinized the names on the page as though suddenly they would spell out something they didn't already know, like he was looking for anagrams. The rest of the team waited in silence, sitting around the little motel table, as here and there he would stop briefly before continuing on.

"What do you think?" Lisbon asked when he was done.

Jane shrugged in response.

"The list is white males owning dark blue SUVs with the right license plate numbers in the area or who are married to women owning such vehicles," Cho said. "I can try to narrow it down by our profiles later. Serial killers generally are searching for excitement or trying to make up for the inadequacies that they perceive in their lives."

"So we're going to look up the ones that have boring, crappy jobs next?" Rigsby said. "Great."

"Red John is also very methodical," Van Pelt put in. "I suppose we could use that as part of our criteria, in terms of employment."

"I imagine we'll probably end up going through the entire list," Lisbon said. "But it couldn't hurt."

"When are we going to go to public appeal?" Van Pelt asked.

"When haven't we been on public appeal?" Cho asked. "If anyone in the public knows who this is, they're not telling."

Once again, all Lisbon could do is sigh. They had leads in this case, which was better than anything else that they'd gotten on Red John, but the total absence of anything beyond that was becoming frustrating. "All right, then," she said. "Tomorrow is a new day. We'll do what we can and see what comes up then."

Rigsby stood up first, said goodnight and headed off to his own room, followed shortly by Van Pelt. Lisbon looked to Jane. "Come on," she said, standing up. Jane followed suit.

"Good night, Cho," Jane said as the two of them went out the door, heading down to their own room.

Lisbon rubbed a tense shoulder with one hand as she unlocked the door to their room with another. "I'm going to take a nice, hot shower," she said to Jane, "And if you even come near the bathroom door, I will kill you."

Jane gave her a weak smile as she kicked off her shoes inside their room and then put her cell phone, keys, and gun on the table between their two beds. Jane plopped down on his own bed before saying softly, "I don't think you have to worry about that tonight."

Lisbon gave him a look as she pulled a pair of pajamas out of her bag. He raised his eyebrows at her. She raised her eyebrows back before shaking her head. "Okay," she said. "I guess I'll trust you."

She headed towards the bathroom, but paused before entering. She looked back at Jane and said, "Don't worry, Jane. We'll get him eventually."

Jane smiled back. "I know," he said. "We'll collect all the clues and one by one they will add up until we have our killer. That's the way it works, right?"

"That's right," Lisbon answered. Then she stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She stripped down and stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water. It felt every bit as amazing as she had thought that it would, but she resolved not to stay in longer than necessary. Despite his reassurances, she didn't think it was a good idea to leave Jane alone for long.

So, shortly thereafter, she stepped out of the bathroom in her pajamas, towel drying her hair. Instinctively, the first place she looked to was the table. The table where her phone was now sitting all alone.

"Shit," she said, dropping the towel to the floor and going for the phone. She hit number four on her speed dial and then looked out the window to confirm that, indeed, the space where she had parked was empty.

"Cho," Cho said on the other side of the phone after two rings.

"Jane's gone," Lisbon answered. "And he's got my car and my gun."


	8. Chapter 8

Lisbon dressed as fast as she could, with her own words, "Okay, I guess I'll trust you," playing through her head again and again while internally cursing Patrick Jane. She told herself that she should have known better.

Once fully clothed, Lisbon took up her cell phone and went out the door, taking no care even to lock up the room. She went over one room and raised her hand to knock on the door, but it was an unnecessary effort. Cho was already waiting; he opened the door before she had a chance.

She stepped inside the room where Rigsby and Van Pelt were already waiting. She had told Cho to rouse them. While Cho at least retained his usual stoic face, she was at least somewhat pleased to note that the other two looked as alarmed as she felt.

Lisbon tried to think of something to say, but nothing immediately came to mind, so she cursed again, although she realized that it was hardly helpful. At the moment, it felt good.

"What do we do?" Rigsby said.

"Do we call Minelli?" Van Pelt asked.

"No!" Lisbon answered, for Jane's sake and her own. That was at least one thing she had an answer for right away. "No."

"Okay then, what do we do?" Cho asked. "Try and find him? We have no idea where he went or who he's going after."

"Or if he didn't just run off to kill himself," Van Pelt put in.

Somehow, Lisbon found that even more alarming. "That's not helpful," Lisbon said. She realized how much higher her voice sounded as she said it.

"You'd prefer it if he's going off to kill someone else?" Rigsby said.

"Frankly, yes," Lisbon said.

"I don't think Jane would kill himself," Cho said calmly. "He wants to catch Red John first."

"Okay," Lisbon said. "We just have to think." She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. "Jane went everywhere with me. I never let him out of my sight while we were out of our hotel room. He shouldn't know anything that I don't know. So I should know where he's going. Or I should be able to figure it out, right?"

"Yeah," Rigsby said. "Except since when have we been able to figure out any of the things that Jane is thinking?"

"Let's think positive thoughts," Van Pelt answered him.

"Hmm," Cho said. "That list."

Lisbon looked at him. "What list?"

He glanced at her as he shuffled though papers on his table. "That damn thing that you've had me working on more or less since we got here," Cho answered. "The cars. Jane saw it and you didn't."

Cho pulled it out of his stack of papers and Lisbon more or less snatched it from his hand. She began scanning each name, hoping that she would find something that looked familiar. She found it on the second page.

"Edward Cowin," she said, remembering the name emblazed on one of those obnoxious purple polo shirts.

"Who is he?" Rigsby said.

"He worked at the last place we checked, where Holly had made deliveries for her job," Lisbon said, thinking it through. "Middle aged white male. He was… he worked in accounting or inventory, I don't remember which… something meticulous, though, but with little job recognition."

"You think that's where Jane went?" Rigsby asked.

Lisbon looked up from the list to Cho. "Do you have a map?"

"Yeah," Cho answered. He grabbed one from his nightstand and unfolded it.

"He was interested in the case," Lisbon said while he did so, more to herself than to them. "Said that he wanted to help." She watched while Cho finished smoothing out the creases in the map.

"Okay," Lisbon said, checking the address on the list again. "Edward Cowin lives here." She pointed to a spot. "Holly Pasto's apartment was here." She pointed again and traced a line between the two.

"That takes him left past the gas station to get home from Holly's apartment," Cho said.

"Yes, it does," Lisbon answered.

"Do you think that's where Jane's going?" Rigsby asked.

Lisbon thought about what Cowin said in his office: "You always see on those crime shows on TV, how the investigators collect all the clues and one by one they add up until you get your killer." Jane had said before he left, "We'll collect all the clues and one by one they will add up until we have our killer. That's the way it works, right?"

"Yeah," Lisbon said. "That's where he's going."

Lisbon picked up the keys to the CBI truck off the table without another word and went out the door, leaving them there. They'd find a way to follow after. Or something. She wasn't really thinking clearly enough to care.

She pulled her cell phone out and dialed Jane's number as she got into the driver's seat of the truck and started the engine. She hoped that Jane would answer the phone, but that seemed unlikely. Slightly more reasonably, she hoped that at the very least he would drive the speed limit. Getting pulled over by the cops in a car that he didn't have the registration for would foil his plans.

At the very least, she hoped that she could catch up with him before he could do anything drastic. She listened to the phone ring over and over again. At least he hadn't turned it off. Then she pulled out of the parking lot, turned on the emergency lights, and hit the gas pedal.


	9. Chapter 9

Jane didn't answer the first time Lisbon dialed his number. He didn't answer the second time either. She dialed the number the third time, while driving as fast as she dared towards Edward Cowin's apartment with only her emergency lights on. She didn't want the sirens on if- no, when Jane answered. She was afraid it would give him the wrong idea.

She didn't know how she was going to stop him if she actually managed to catch up with him before he got to where he meant to. She was very much aware of the fact that she didn't have her gun. In fact, he had her gun. At the moment, she was sure that she'd be willing to trade a limb for it. One of the more important limbs, too. She'd rather have the gun.

Jane didn't answer the third time she dialed, either.

Lisbon ran her second red light of the night as she hit redial and realized distantly that if she wasn't otherwise occupied, that would have bothered her immensely. Lisbon didn't like speeding or running red lights, but for the moment her only concern was getting to Jane in time.

Lisbon listened to her phone ring again and when Jane finally did answer, it took her a moment to realize it. He didn't say anything; there was only silence on the other end. When it did hit her, she blurted out the first and only thing that she could think of to say.

"Jane, don't do it."

"I have to," the voice on the other end said after a long, torturous moment in which Lisbon thought that he wasn't going to say anything at all. He didn't sound like himself; it wasn't the same casual, jaunty Jane voice that Lisbon was used to hearing. It would have sounded anguished if it didn't already sound so dead.

"Jane," Lisbon said, pressing for something to say. "Jane, you don't really think it's him, do you? You don't really think that it's this man, Edward Cowin." She said the name, hoping to evoke the image of the pale, chubby little man in the ridiculous purple polo they had seen that afternoon, who was precisely the opposite of her mental image of Red John.

Lisbon turned off on Cowin's street, Brandon Road, and hoped that Jane hadn't done anything stupid yet and that things could still be taken care of.

"The evidence-" Jane began, but he didn't seem to know how to finish his statement.

"Screw the evidence," Lisbon answered. "Do _you_ know that it's him? Red John- Red John isn't this sloppy. He wouldn't screw up this bad. He's just playing games with you, Jane. Everything lines up too nicely in the end."

"I seem to remember you arguing the opposite point two days ago, Lisbon," Jane answered.

"I guess I was wrong, Jane," Lisbon answered. "Look. Look, just stop, okay?"

"I can't. I have to do this," Jane said. "It's my fault… my fault that they died."

Lisbon didn't know what to say to him, to that. She saw the sign for Cowin's apartments, though, and that gave her hope, if only she could stall for time. So she said the only thing that she could think of.

"Maybe it is. Maybe it is Jane."

Lisbon turned into the parking lot of Cowin's building and noted that her car was neatly parked not too far from the door.

"Do you know how that feels?" Jane asked.

"No, I don't, Jane," Lisbon answered. She stopped the truck next to the door, put it in park and ran, not bothering to turn it off or even to shut the door. The only possible ways her day was going to get any worse was if someone stole the CBI truck or if Jane actually managed to kill someone. The second was slightly more pressing.

She didn't even let the thought enter her mind that Jane might get killed instead.

She realized that Jane hadn't answered in a few moments so she pressed on as she went through the door to the building. "Do you really want any more deaths to be your fault, Jane?" Lisbon said. "Do you want this man's death to be your fault? Do you really want to feel that?"

"I have to," Jane answered as she made it to the stairwell and began to run up.

"Why?" she answered.

"I have to," he repeated as she hit the second floor. He sounded more than a little desperate.

One more floor to go.

Lisbon said the one thing that she thought would hold him any longer as she sprinted for the end. "Is it going to make them any less dead?"

"I have to do it, Teresa. I'm going to do it," he said, but she'd reached the landing.

Lisbon went through the door into the third floor hallway and answered to the man rather than the phone, "No, you're not, Jane." She was only slightly out of breath.

He stood there, in front of the door, #320, with his cell phone in one hand and her gun in the other. When she came through the door, he spun quickly, desperate, swinging the gun around with him to point in her general direction.

At least, she thought, he didn't point the gun directly at her.

"Are you going to shoot me, Jane?" she asked.

Lisbon considered for a moment what she would do if he actually did try to shoot her. Shoot at her, that is. She wasn't entirely sure if she thought he could hit her. But would she try to cut and run if he did? She glanced at the exit sign above her. No, she decided, she wouldn't. Nonetheless, she was slightly reassured by the red lights… too many red lights, she thought.

"Are you going to try and stop me?" Jane answered to after a moment of staring at her and considering. She wondered if he was also wondering whether or not he could shoot her.

"No, Jane," she answered. "Because we both know that you're not going to go through that door."

"No?" Jane asked. He made an attempt at his usual jauntiness that sounded all the more depressing for all that it fell short. "Funny, I'm inclined to think that I am."

"No," Lisbon told him. "If you were going to do it, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now; you would have done it already." She paused. "If you were going to do it you wouldn't have answered the phone."

"Hmm," Jane said. "I suppose I wouldn't have." In the end, he just sounded said.

"Okay," Lisbon said. "Okay." She raised her hands in the air and moved in closer. So long as she was sure that he was done, there were more important things that she needed to look to at the moment.

"What if it is him?" Jane asked.

"Then the law will take care of it," Lisbon answered. "But I don't think it is. He's playing with us. Okay? Just give me the gun. I need it now."

Jane looked down at the gun in his hand and then to Lisbon and once again back at the gun before handing it over to her. She took it in her hand but didn't look any less on guard. He scrutinized her face. "What's wrong?"

She nodded to the exit sign. If Jane hadn't been so otherwise indisposed, he probably would have noticed it himself, the extra red light that almost blended in with the light of the sign, a tiny camera planted underneath it.

"He's playing with us," Lisbon said. "We're being watched."

Jane looked to the sign, then to the door of #320, then back to the sign, and then again the door. For a moment he looked like he wished he hadn't given up the gun.

Lisbon pushed him back, out of the way, and then pointed it at the door. She hesitated for a moment and then knocked, hard. After a few seconds pause in which no one answered, she knocked again, now visibly tense. "Mr. Cowin," she called. "CBI."

After another moment, in bunny slippers and holding a pint of Hagen Das, Edward Cowin answered. He looked very surprised to see Jane and Lisbon standing outside his doorway so late in the evening, with Lisbon standing there pointing her gun.

In another moment, she visibly sagged. Both of them did. No matter what she had said, but of them had been hoping that this time they would actually catch Red John. This, however, clearly was not him.

---

**A/N: Did you really think it was him? I called it "Red John's Games" for a reason…**

**Anyway, I hope to finish this out before October is done with. Only six months late, I know. I've got just a couple more chapters to go, though. I think that's manageable. **

**So, reviews? Please? I think I like the way this has gone so far, but who knows… I still like "Dinosaurs and Barbies" better. For that matter, if you haven't read my old stuff, go and try it out. It's fun, I promise. :D**


End file.
